The Dwarven Moon
by Llegion
Summary: Man is headed for the stars, with a Lunar Goddess and her Dwarves at their side. When they meet the galactic community, who have no such protectors, what possible misunderstanding could there be?


The world was young, the mountains green,  
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,  
No words were laid on stream or stone  
When Durin woke and walked alone.  
He named the nameless hills and dells;  
He drank from yet untasted wells;  
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,  
And saw a crown of stars appear,  
As gems upon a silver thread,  
Above the shadows of his head.

The world was fair, the mountains tall,  
In Elder Days before the fall  
Of mighty kings in Nargothrond  
And Gondolin, who now beyond  
The Western Seas have passed away:  
The world was fair in Durin's Day.

A king he was on carven throne  
In many-pillared halls of stone  
With golden roof and silver floor,  
And runes of power upon the door.  
The light of sun and star and moon  
In shining lamps of crystal hewn  
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night  
There shone for ever fair and bright.

There hammer on the anvil smote,  
There chisel clove, and graver wrote;  
There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;  
The delver mined, the mason built.  
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,  
And metal wrought like fishes' mail,  
Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,  
And shining spears were laid in hoard.

Unwearied then were Durin's folk;  
Beneath the mountains music woke:  
The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,  
And at the gates the trumpets rang.

The world is grey, the mountains old,  
The forge's fire is ashen-cold;  
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:  
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;  
The shadow lies upon his tomb  
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.  
But still the sunken stars appear  
In dark and windless Mirrormere;  
There lies his crown in water deep,  
Till Durin wakes again from sleep.

**The Dwarven Moon**

Everyone knew that Durin was the first Dwarf. Everyone knew that he ruled the Dwarves from his throne in Khazad-Dun. Everyone knew The Song of Durin. The only problem was, no one was quite sure where the song came from: who wrote it, who put it to music, who sang it, what language was it, why everyone could understand it, and why every child could sing along the first time they heard it.

Some had speculated it was a song from Northern Europe, but their history made it quite clear that this precise investigation had been done before, and they were no closer to an answer.

"Perhaps from the Far East," they declared. "No one truly understands them, perhaps we should ask again." And Europe agreed with them and both sent many scholars with the caravans to the East, seeking the source of The Song. But all they found were their counterparts – wise men and historians: all seeking the source of the song, with no more leads than were found in all of Europe.

"Perhaps the answer is hidden in the deserts and jungles of Africa," the wise men of the East said. "Such a diverse place must have inspired the writer to such heights." And once again the scholars of Europe nodded and agreed with this new idea and both sent many expeditions to the South, meeting with many of their wise men and were greeted with the same answers they had all found already. Nobody knows.

"Perhaps," said the shamans of the South, "the answer may be found with the mighty kings who went beyond the Western Seas." And again the scholars of Asia and Europe agreed and the three began to construct colossal ships which might ferry them for the months or even years it would take to find where the mighty kings of Nargothrond and Gondolin had landed. And when they found another continent they rejoiced, for this must be their destination.

Their hopes soared ever higher when they met with the Men of the West. This sprawling city, with streets as straight as the finest lances, houses stacked upon each other, and farms floating upon the water.

"Clearly these are the descendants of those Mighty Kings!" the scholars declared, only for their hopes to be dashed as they learned that these men were as lost as they.

"We have been across all the lands we could find and have found nothing that may help us in our search." The Western Priests said.

"We have been North and South and East and West and still have not found what we seek." Cried the scholars and wise men and shamans and priests. "Will we ever understand the purpose of this song?"

Dejected, the world's wisest left the meeting hall in the middle of the City of the West, tired and frustrated from a long day of poring over tomes. As their spirits were reaching their lowest, the night sky lit up as day, and a comet streaked across the sky, striking the moon with a fierceness that shook the world.

"It is a sign!" The priests of the West cried.

"The answer lies upon the moon!" The wise men of the East said.

"We must prepare!" The scholars of the North called.

"To the moon we go!" The shamans of the South shouted.

And so, with great vigor the Men of the World began construction of a tower that might reach the Moon. They placed it among the mountains of the West that they might reach higher faster. Through day and night Men toiled, sending ships and caravans across the World to their homelands that they might provide more materials to build and decorate such an incredible Wonder.

Finally, the Day came when the Tower scraped the sky, its base larger than any City of Man, and its top only wide enough for a single person.

The Men of the Earth drew lots for the privilege of being the first to the Moon, and it was won by a wise man from the East.

The Men of Earth began their climb at dawn and climbed the Tower through midday and until dusk. The Men arrived at the tower at the same moment the Moon reached its zenith and were met by a woman standing upon the surface of the Moon. Her face was fair, and her long hair was split across the middle, one side black as night and the other as white as the surface she stood upon.

"Hello, Man." She greeted with a dip of her head. "Thank you for visiting me, but it is not yet time, for you or for me. My children are still asleep and your World yet unready for what is to come. When next we meet we will both be ready. This I swear."

And so, the Moon descended back beyond the horizon, and the woman with it. The Men of Earth returned to the ground and, as they bid each other goodbye outside the Tower, a great noise arose and the tower collapsed upon itself until it was no taller than the mountains it was built amongst.

It was then the Men of Earth knew they had met with the Song-Writer, the Moon herself, who had inspired Men to come together and reach for her. And the Men agreed that some would remain behind, and they would call themselves Ithilden, for the Tower was named Minas Ithil. And there those Men would wait, preparing for the time when Man would once again reach the Moon.

**A/N: So, this is going to be a little wonky because I've had this idea of a Mass Effect Story where the moon is alive/sentient and is like a presence throughout the story, and the idea grew until I had to write this story. Basically, the Song of Durin is my inspiration for this little prologue and my story will feature quite a few references to Tolkein, but not enough to really be a crossover, if that makes sense. Also I really like mythology where something definitely not possible (like, say, a tower to the moon) happens and everyone rolls with it. So while I wouldn't say to expect this style of writing for the rest of the story, definitely expect those kinds of outlandish things. Gonna screw with the Mass Effect Sciences with MAGIC, gonna be fun.**


End file.
